The prompt: Write about a time you fumbled or stumbled or faltered.
Or: Write about a kindness you have done or would have like to have done.
Here’s the backstory:
Occasion: Nobel Prize ceremony, Stockholm, Switzerland.
She sang for a few minutes, faltered, stopped singing, and said, “I’m sorry. I’m so nervous.” Then she continued in her beautiful, transportive way.
We’ve all been there, haven’t we? Awkwardly faltering. But usually, we don’t want to admit what we perceive as a weakness.
I’ve had a lot to think about these past few days. Extreme highs: Watching granddaughter perform as rat and a camel in her church Christmas pageant and as a soldier in the Nutcracker. Celebrated with son, his wife, and her family as his term of mayor ended. All in one day!
Came home to a bare fridge. Trudged to the grocery store. Trudged? Oh, such a drama queen. I drove in my comfy, warm car. Picked up a Starbucks Skinny Mocha to fortify myself for a massive grocery shopping. Bought more items than I intended.
Filled my pantry with ingredients for meals over the next few days, reflecting on the news that spewed from my car radio. A young woman in Aleppo described how she didn’t want to leave her country, but there was no choice. A man said, “They gave us two choices only — leave or die. You leave your friends. You leave your house. You leave your history.” People knew they would soon be killed.
I ask, “Why?”
Why do people treat one another horribly based on skin color, religious beliefs, cultural identity, border disputes, and other reasons that make no sense to me. I’m saddened by world events. I have no appetite for dinner. I hate that I have all this food and others have nothing. I would share if I could and feed all those who are hungry, homeless, country-less.
What I can do is continue my small acts of kindness. And appreciate those who give with no expectation of receiving anything in return for their kindness.
Looking at the audience and the orchestra members at the Nobel Prize Ceremony . . . different ethnicities, a variety of countries represented, varied beliefs I’m sure . . . sitting together. That sense of togetherness, in the same room, watching the same performance. Hope for tomorrow.
There’s always hope.
Maybe tomorrow I’ll have an appetite.